Rapture

Visions of violence painted by poetry.

I saw nothing.

 

I crushed my eyes tightly until I felt my vital fluid gush out of them. My vision blinked crimson, again and again. 

I looked upward: the morning sky appeared a watery blend of bloodshot images. I breathed in the red sea. Drizzles of plasma sank into my bated breath. It was a perfect portrait of allegorical bloodshed.

 

I trickled with delight.

 

The waves advanced to their positions, ready for the onslaught. The storming music began. I felt the sailors’ frenzied screams erupt in my red cells. I swallowed up their sexy terror. The savage waves thrust against the ships mercilessly, until they ripened into a gory aftertaste.

 

A warm, frothy bloodbath awaited me. I fervently capsized into the collected carnage; the bloody bulk of excess. 

Death perfumed the muted air and I inhaled gratefully. This was true love.

 

My heart grew two sizes that day.